


Don't Close Eyes

by Deborah_Dasheen



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Somnophilia, Tentacle Sex, Translation in English from Russian, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deborah_Dasheen/pseuds/Deborah_Dasheen
Summary: “Who you watch in the bathtub is none of my concern.” Corvo’s words keep echoing to Piero. Interesting, what would he say, if he found out that Piero was not peeping on Callista, but him?





	Don't Close Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Не закрывай глаза](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101832) by [Gianeya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gianeya/pseuds/Gianeya). 



> *Written on Facebook in 2015 for the Dishonored activity. Conventional somnophilia, voyeurism, sex with tentacles.*

“Who you watch in the bathtub is none of my concern.” Corvo’s words keep echoing to Piero. Interesting, what would he say, if he found out that Piero was not peeping on Callista, but him?

The instance Piero thinks about this idea, he freezes and begins to blush. He fussily rubs his glasses and peeps on the street cautiously. When no one is in his view, he lowers down the noise of the iron plate at the entrance of his studio, and slowly climbs up along the stairs.

Corvo. Naked Corvo.

Piero awkwardly stumbles on a step. An imaginary Corvo draws the blade from his back and approaches Piero menacingly.

No. No-no-no! That won’t do! 

Piero finally reaches his bunk bed, sit on it and shakes his head, trying to drive away the image of a furious Corvo with his sword. Instead of that he fancies a Corvo in sleep. In a sudden inspiration Piero recalls on the sleep darts and immediately imagines to use one on Corvo. Now he has nothing to fear of.

Piero settles down on the bed. Slightly trembling with anticipation, he unbuckles his pants, circles his already half-aroused cock and returns to fantasy.

In his imagination, Corvo is completely nude and lying on his back, hands tilted to his head. Piero imagines, how he approaches, stands beside cautiously, almost without breathing, and lays his palm on Corvo’s abdomen. Corvo doesn’t flinch, nor does he open his eyes—he’s perfectly still, so Piero becomes bolder. 

He mentally traces Corvo’s torso with his hands, turning to his ribs, touching his nipples with the tip of his fingers, outlining old and new scars with tender touches, lingers on his collar bones for a few long seconds, and then he slides his palms above Corvo’s neck and rests there, counting his pulses beating in his sleeping arteries. The rhythm turns out to be strangely rapid for a sleeping person, and Piero, eyes wide open, realizes, that it is his own pulse roaring in his ears. He lazily, prolonging his pleasure, keeps his clenched fist around his cock for some time, and closes his eyes before returning to fantasy once again.

He imagines how to caress Corvo’s neck---which is slightly twisting because of his tilted head, the shape of his right sternocleidomastoid muscle emerging beneath skin. Piero begins to breathe more rapidly because of growing arousal. He bends even closer and greedily inhales with his nose. In his fantasy, Corvo’s skin smells like gunpowder, blood and… blubber?

That’s so unusual, that Piero tries to back away and open his eyes, but he suddenly finds that he can’t even move. And he’s already not sitting beside Corvo, but like steaming somewhere below the ceiling, how an absolutely helpless and frightened observer. 

On his bed is another man. He raises his head to glance at Piero, with his impermeable black eyes and predatory smirk, at the sight of which people would shout out of fear. That familiar stranger. He presses a finger to his lips, as if commanding Piero to keep silent (why? His vocal cords refuse to obey to his will), and turns back to Piero. 

And then Piero can only watch, how the stranger is already leisurely sliding his palms onto Corvo’s chest---who’s awakening, lifting his eyelids, smiling faintly at the man and raising his hands to…correction: trying to raise his hands. At that moment, Piero finally notices that Corvo’s forearms and wrists are wound with some strange black…tentacles? ribbons? Piero cannot understand. But at the sight of how Corvo struggles to escape the grip, Piero suddenly restores a wave of stuffy arousal that seemed to have receded. Let him be kept still---no one has deprived him of his vision. 

The stranger leans to Corvo’s side, whisper something inaudible to Piero directly onto Corvo’s lips---and Corvo relaxes. He no longer tries to resist. Now, as the man continues to stroke Corvo’s chest almost without force, he just breathes smoothly: he inhales air for one-two-three, holds his breath for four-five, and exhales through clenched teeth for six-seven-eight-nine.

Piero is captivated counting those breaths and cannot rip his eyes off from Corvo’s face. Droplets of sweat shine on his upper lip and forehead, his eyeballs trembling under tightly closed lids. Suddenly, Corvo’s breath loses the steady rhythm, and Piero, shuddering with him, looks down. The stranger had moved away---he’s now sitting at the foot of the bed, and all those exactly alike black tentacles are crawling onto Corvo’s hips, inexorably approaching Corvo’s excited cock. 

If Piero could, he would have moaned by now. But he can only stare---and he stares, trying not to miss anything. He watches how tentacles cover Corvo’s groin. He watches how Corvo twitches on bed with a short shriek. He watches how the stranger moves forward with a self-conceited smile, leaning over Corvo, supporting his weight on his hands but not touching Corvo, and again whispers something. 

Corvo lifts his eyelids as if unwillingly. Piero unnecessarily catches on his breath---Corvo’s eyes are also jet black, like engulfing darkness. Part of Piero’s mind, which never forgets about science, suggests that it should be the expansion of pupils, a natural response to arousal, but it’s hard to hold this idea. That black glance draws his attention like magnet---and it seems he’s not the only one. The stranger is still levitating above Corvo, but Piero suddenly hears his following words:

—Don’t close your eyes.

And Piero doesn’t. His breath has long been not so steady as from the beginning; air escapes Corvo’s half-open lips with hoarse moans, strands of sweaty hair stick his temples, muscles on his neck and shoulders strain almost to the limit---but Corvo does not close his eyes.

Piero lifts his eyes from Corvo’s face with difficulty and looks below him. Black tentacles seem to have become even bigger. They caress Corvo’s nipples, clasp him around the waist, clinging to the bed, slide onto Corvo’s excited cock, coil around his hip and rhythmically move between his buttocks.

Piero tries to imagine what it’s like to feel this substantial darkness all over skin, and mentally sobbing out of admiration, he is densely overwhelmed by horror. He cannot tell which place he would prefer to find himself in---in the stranger’s place, who has full control over Corvo, or in Corvo’s place, who suddenly turns up so helpless.

He’s dragged out of his brief introspection by a loud scream. Piero sees Corvo’s cock twitches and splashes semen over the tentacles---Piero has the time to remotely notice that the white streaks on black background look rather vivid. Then his gaze rises again to Corvo’s face, who, even shuddering in orgasm, never closes his eyes.

His lower lip is bitten, wings of his nose fluttering, eyelashes glued together by sweat---and his eyes, with pupils dilated to the limit, are still looking into the stranger’s eyes.

Finally, Corvo falls limp, relaxes, and lowers his eyelids as if against his own will. The stranger is no longer smiling; he smoothly, almost gently holds his hand above Corvo’s cheek, briefly strokes his thumb over reddened lips and gets out of bed. Black tentacles begin to gradually scatter into the smallest pieces of darkness, which then simply melt into the air.

Piero is now so scared that he also wants to bite his lips and just finish. If only he could move……Suddenly, the stranger raises his head again and looks directly at Piero---and he realizes that he’s given back the command of his body. Without wasting a second, he grasps his fingers even more tightly on his penis, trying to recall the last moments of his……Fantasy? Dream? Delirium? It doesn’t matter now; Piero just want to ejaculate as soon as possible.

But instead of Corvo’s face, in front of his mental gaze, somehow the face of a stranger with a smug grin and impenetrable black eyes appears. His lips move, and Piero easily tells the words he uttered in silence: 

\---He’s MINE.

With a desperate moan, Piero collapses back onto the pillow---the arousal has vanished so fast, as if he’s plunged into icy water. In his mind, there is only one thought:

“Perhaps, from now on, he should limit himself to fantasizing Callista.”


End file.
